Left is MY FIC, right is the ACTUAL BOOK QUOTE IT WAS INSPIRED BY
(Mask context: masquerade ball / cinderella au)
It has been doing numbers EVERYWHERE and I only found out from this lovely person who commented on Ao3:
So yeah I guess if anyone wants to read an 8 year old Song of Achilles fanfic written in a fever dream after watching Into The Woods, be my guest
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there is something to be said about jimmy’s death. something to be said about a curse looming over his head that they keep mentioning, as if repetition will dull the pain, will cause the bleeding wound to scab over and form calluses. something to be said about bdubs throwing himself forward, shouting “KILL ME”, something about joel trying to sacrifice himself. the love was there. so was the fear. the canary sings a warning. then comes the bloodshed.
grian watches joel out of the corner of his eye, taking slow steps over the ramshackle bridge that looks over the server. joel sprints ahead, careless, movements strange and distorted, body tensed, fingers curling. the setting sun flashes red back into his eyes. a bloodied reflection. he is being reckless. he is going crazy. grian remembers last life, remembers passing through and hearing joel’s ear-spitting screaming, remembers cracking open a laugh as bloodlust that should not exist under stained green thrums through him. HOW ARE YOU DOING, JOEL, he called, and there is a snarl in response. “going a bit mad, going a bit MENTAL.”
joel was, in a word. dedicated. the best of them. the worst of them. grian remembers a pack of wolves, remembers fingers curling into pale fur, remembers agonized cries as the dogs fell.
he cannot ignore the similarities. run, rabbit, run.
he makes plans, he plots. he feels the time tick down. sends down explosives. one takes out four. he laughs, ear-splitting, thinks, i’m learning.
four. five. six. seven. he loses count. he doesn't stop.
joel’s teeth keep flashing.
grian sneaks down, around, ducks his head, whispers allyship to bigb and pearl, feels eyes humming around them.
he will not stop planning. he needs allies, in a place like this, after he loses his.
joel, he says, just kill me. the man glances at him, once, does not respond.
into battle they go. smoke rises in his lungs. scar, grinning, scar, falling, scar, protesting not to kill his beloved animal.
grian sees a creeper sneak up behind him, almost hisses a warning, stops himself. waits. watches. scar turns his head, jumps back, laughing. he has learned, too.
joel’s time is running out. grian runs after him.
joel is being reckless. he goes after scar. JOEL JUST KILL ME, grian shouts. "NO, NOT YOU," joel screams. "I'LL KILL HIM INSTEAD."
grian remembers a hand that stayed ever dedicated to the coming winter.
DO IT, and joel splits him, and then someone else, and then dies, the absolute fucking idiot, and they are. back where they started. or maybe right where they will end.
joel looks rabid in the moonlight. grian makes plans for when he is gone.
joel, just take one of my lives. just do it. "no," joel says, turning around, eyes searching frantically for something, for butter yellow canary wings that do not fill the space any longer, hands reaching to claw around grian's wrists, nails stinging, drawing blood. "you have to win," he says, pleads, begs, "for us. you have to."
grian says nothing.
joel is being reckless. he runs ahead. “scar-“ grian swallows down the name, frantic at the flash of red rushing off without him. JOEL.
lightning, singing his back. he turns. silent. shocked. remembers a hand’s agonized scream. remembers an attempt at revenge that ended him.
the bad boys were never that army of dogs in renchanting, were never loyal enough for it. too brittle, too untrusting, even jimmy. especially jimmy.
there is a tombstone. grian does not grieve. his sorrow is short-lived. he has a new alliance now, new loyalties. ones that may be smarter. it is for the best.
tick tick tick.
his wrists still ache.
edit: cross-posted on ao3!
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